The Goodbye Bride (24 page)

As his aunt's eyes caught his, he lifted a hand and started her way, nearly barreling over . . . Lucy.

He braced her shoulder, then stepped back. “Sorry.” Why'd he always seem to be bumping into her?

“No problem.” She stood in his way, shifting, her eyes darting off his, looking adorably uncertain.

“Well . . . ,” he said.

“Well.”

He lifted the basket. “I should go get Aunt Trudy.”

“We should probably eat on the deck.”

They spoke at the same time.

It took a moment for her words to register.
“We should probably eat on the deck.”

This was . . . Lucy's basket?

His eyes searched Lucy's, hoping for some mistake. Lead filled his stomach, and it dried to a hard, heavy lump during the long moment that passed. He was going to kill Eden. And Aunt Trudy.

Lucy's smile fell, her lips parting. The light in her eyes slowly dimmed. “Oh.”

“This isn't—?”

She gave a wobbly smile. “You thought—no, it's mine.”

“Oh.”

Her wobbly smile crumbled, and she looked away.

“You don't have to—”

“We should probably—”

They spoke at the same time.

“—eat on the deck,” he finished. “The reporters.”

“Right. Okay.”

He ushered her out the patio door, blinking against the sunshine. How did he get himself into these messes?

Eden and Aunt Trudy, that's how.

It's just lunch
. He could sit across a table from Lucy and carry on a casual conversation.
It's for a good cause
, he repeated to himself about a dozen times.

He chose a table near the railing and set the basket on one of the seats. No one else had chosen the deck, but there were several
tables in view on the beach, one situated on the flat rocky outcrop. A young couple from church was making the climb toward that one.

Lucy whipped out the tablecloth, and the breeze pulled at its corners. Her cheeks were flushed, and she bit the corner of her lip.

He was such an idiot. He'd hurt her feelings. Again. He helped her spread the tablecloth. “I'm sorry about—”

“It's all right.” Her eyes darted off him.

“I thought it was—”

“I know. It's fine.” She gave a brave smile as she smoothed out invisible creases. “It's just lunch, and for a good cause. They raised a fortune for the new firehouse. And I have to admit it was amusing to watch Sheriff Colton battle for Miss Trudy's basket.”

Zac had wondered why the sheriff hadn't been bidding against him on Aunt Trudy's basket. He had thought the man was confused about which basket was hers. Turned out he'd been the confused one.

“Marshall gave him a run for his money.” Sheriff Colton's face had turned three shades of red, each one darker than the one before it. His bid alone had netted the firehouse over a hundred dollars.

“Who's the guy who won Paige's basket? Dark hair, sturdy build . . .”

“Dylan Moore. He's a fourth-generation lobsterman.” Zac hadn't missed the looks he'd given Paige or the flush on her face. Lord, he hoped nothing was blooming between them. He didn't think he could stand to see Riley's heart broken again.

The tablecloth smoothed, Lucy reached for the food, and he helped her unpack it. The eggs were nestled in a special container, and the pulled pork was kept warm in a stone dish, separate from
the bread. Fresh bread from the deli. She'd gone to a lot of trouble, and not for him.

“Was there a mix-up with Nick?” he asked. The guy had bid on someone else's basket.

She lowered herself to the seat across from him. “Nick and I are just friends.”

“Oh.” His stomach lightened somehow, emptying of all the lead that had filled it before. Something tightened in the vicinity of his heart.

No. No, no, no. This is not good, Callahan.

They tucked into their food. The pork was delicious, tangy with a hint of spice. The deviled eggs seasoned to perfection. Maybe she'd hoped to meet someone new. Someone who would love her back.

“This is good, Lucy. I'm sorry you went to all this trouble.”

Her eyes turned to his, and those twin pools of blue caught him like a riptide. He couldn't think of a better way to drown. A breeze swept across the table, carrying her appley fragrance his way. She smelled even better than the BBQ pork. Way better.

Her shoulders sank as her tension seemed to drain away. “It's no trouble, Zac. You've done so much for me. I know you didn't ask for all this. I've been nothing but an inconvenience and you don't owe me a thing, much less a place to lay my head.” Her lips worked wordlessly for a moment, then tipped in a little smile. “You're a good man, Zac Callahan.”

His heart fluttered in his chest.
Fluttered.

She was too generous, considering how he'd been pushing her away since she got here.

He cleared his throat. “Have you heard, ah, anything from your ex-fiancé?”

She blinked, then picked at her sandwich. “Um, no. Not since the flowers. I sent the engagement ring back.”

“That's good. Maybe that'll get through to him. I noticed more of the reporters left.” He took a swig of the bottled peach tea. “Did they let you out of your apartment lease?”

“They're holding it for another month. Awful nice of them.”

“The Ferrises are good people. You think a month will be long enough?”

She gave him a desperate look. “Gosh, I hope so. Surely he won't harass me longer than that.”

He eyed her as she bit into her sandwich, remembering the sheer desperation he'd felt when she'd left last year. He'd tried everything he knew to find her. He'd told himself he wanted answers, but he knew now it was more than that. He wanted her back. And if he'd had any way of reaching her, he would've tried for way longer than a month.

“We'll have to see how it goes,” he said. “How's the job going?”

“Just fine. I like working with people, helping them plan out their vacation, make proper use of their time.”

“I'm sure you're good at it.” He wiped his mouth. “You think you'll ever use your sociology degree?”

Her eyes found her plate. “I don't know.” She bit her lip, her gaze flickering up to meet his. “Sometimes I think about opening some kind of community center one day . . . Someplace kids could go to after school and during the summer. So many families have both parents working these days, and that leaves kids at loose ends.”

“What kinds of activities would it offer?”

“Oh, a basketball court would be ideal, and maybe Ping-Pong tables. Maybe an area where they can play board games or work a puzzle, watch a movie and whatnot. A quiet corner for homework.”
Her eyes lit up as she talked. “I'd love to have adult volunteers to serve as mentors and have it be a real place of connection, you know?” Her eyes fell away from his, color blooming in her cheeks. “That's probably silly.”

He leaned forward. “Not at all. You've seen the teens that loiter around the Roadhouse. And the sheriff's always complaining about kids making trouble. They're good kids, but they've got too much time on their hands. A community center sounds like a great idea. You should do it.”

She snorted. “Oh, sure. I'll just run over to the bank and borrow a million or two.”

“You shouldn't—”

A voice carried to the deck. A loud one. He tilted his head, listening. It was coming from around the corner, in the shade of the Roadhouse.

“Well, maybe you shouldn't have left me!”

“It was the NBA, Trudy. I was just a farm boy. How could I turn down an opportunity like that?”

Lucy's eyes widened as they met and held Zac's.

“You promised me!” Aunt Trudy said. “But I should've known better than to believe anything you say, Danny Colton.”

“Me? You married someone else the second I left!”

“I don't have to sit here and listen to this.”

“Well, then, by all means! That'll only leave more for me.”

“If I leave, I'm taking my basket with me!”

“I paid for that basket.”

“Fine. Here you go then!”

A pause ensued. Lucy's eyes widened.

Zac winced. He had the feeling the sheriff was now wearing Aunt Trudy's lunch.

The splash of water kissing the shore and a long seagull calling out were the only sounds filling the silence.

“Oh boy,” he said.

Lucy leaned closer. “They used to date?”

“First I've heard of it.”

“She never told you?”

“Nope.” How had he not known this all these years? Gossip alone should've assured he would know.

Lucy's eyes took on that dreamy quality. “And now he wants his first love back. Oh, that's so romantic. We have to do something.”

Zac held up his palms. “Oh no. I'm not getting in the middle of that. And before you stick your feet in that mess, I should remind you he's wearing a potato salad bib about now.”

Lucy's lips twitched, and Zac found it difficult to tear his eyes away. No way was he playing matchmaker with Aunt Trudy and the sheriff. He had plenty of worries just trying to manage his own love life.

Chapter 29

L
ucy barreled through the reporters and up the Roadhouse sidewalk, ignoring the questions. Her blood pulsed through her veins like floodwaters, and her jaw hurt from gritting her teeth all day.

The tangy smell of buffalo wings assaulted her nose as she entered the restaurant. Several tables had filled for supper, and a country tune blared from the jukebox. She scanned the room and found Zac behind the bar, stocking glasses.

She made a beeline for him and slapped her palms on the counter. “You have got to talk to your aunt.”

Zac turned, eyebrows disappearing beneath his bangs.

“Well, hello to you too. How was your day?”

“I'll tell you how my day was. It was just like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. Your aunt practically follows me to the bathroom. She's on my case about the brochures and the wildlife displays—which, by the way, I am not even responsible for. She's usurping my authority with the customers and going behind me with that infernal white rag of hers, cleaning everything I just cleaned. She is driving me flat crazy!”

Zac tweaked a brow, one corner of his lips twitching.

“Do not smirk at me, Zac Callahan. You have to do something. Ever since her tiff with the sheriff, she has been insufferable!”

“More than usual?”

She nailed him with a look. “I cannot take another day.”

“She'll be fine. She's just upset. Be patient with her.”

Patient?
Lucy's eyes narrowed on his admittedly beautiful gray eyes. “I have been patient all week. I have done everything she's asked of me and I have done it with a smile; nonetheless, she bites my head off at every turn.”

He set a stack of glasses on the ledge. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Talk to her. Talk to Sheriff Colton. Do something!”

“Lucy . . . this is none of our business. We should stay out of it.”

She reached over the bar, knotted his shirt in her fist, and pulled him in. “Do. Something.”

His widened eyes locked with hers.

The spicy scent of him wrapped around her. As if someone released a valve, the anger drained right out of her. Her breath tumbled out. Her muscles relaxed, her shoulders fell.

Something flared in his eyes, something that made her pulse flutter. Everything inside her softened, going as mushy as melted butter.

His breath kissed the skin of her forehead, stirring every cell to life. Her legs trembled beneath her, making her balance precarious.

She relaxed her grip on his shirt and smoothed out the wrinkled cotton. “Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.”

The corner of his lips kicked up, drawing her attention, and she watched as his mouth formed the words. “She's a complicated woman.”

Lucy just nodded. Her throat had closed up. Her fingers itched to run along the scruff of his jaw, to sweep across his plump lower lip.

“She's got a good heart though,” he said softly. “She doesn't mean to hurt anyone.”

“I know that, I just—” Wait. Were they still talking about Miss Trudy?

She wrenched her eyes from his lips, only to settle on his eyes. She wasn't sure which was worse. All she knew was she wanted him to keep looking at her that way. She wanted his mouth on hers more than she wanted her next breath. She wanted his arms around her, his ring on her finger. The plain gold one she'd never gotten to wear.

The one she'd never wear. He'd probably sold it at the pawnshop the minute she left town.

Sadness flooded through her at the thought. Her legs went so weak they couldn't hold her. She eased back onto a stool, her eyes still locked with his.

“Phone, Zac!” one of his servers called.

She hadn't even heard it ring.

Zac took a step back. “I'll talk to my aunt.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, wishing for the anger back. Because now an aching emptiness had settled deep inside, and there was nothing she could do about it.